Plunged Into Darkness
by Dead Man's Toe
Summary: When Clara and Molly are kidnapped, John calls the Doctor for help finding them. Sherlock hears of this and decides that his hiatus is over. (Sequel to Murder and Aliens) (Rated for violence).
1. Prologue: Post Reichenbach

It had been about a year and a half since Sherlock had fallen, and John still avoided Baker Street. Within a few weeks after the incident, he had moved in with his girlfriend, Clara Oswald. She had been the kindest girlfriend he could ever have hoped for.

Upon seeing his grief, Clara had demanded that the Doctor try to bring Sherlock back. Somehow, he had managed to steer the TARDIS into Hell. Though they tried, they couldn't find him there.

Then, the Cybermen rose from the ground, and the Mistress revealed herself. While she and the Doctor were on some sort of ship, Clara found herself standing in a graveyard surrounded by zombie Cybermen. Danny Pink, who had been hit by a car just a week prior, tracked her down and confessed that deep down, he still loved her and always would.

The rest, everybody knows. Danny Pink destroyed the Cybermen, and the Doctor killed the Mistress.

Clara returned to John that night and told him what she had tried to do, and how she had failed. They held each other close, missing their friend and wondering for the millionth time why he had jumped.

Months passed, and the Doctor never stopped by again. Clara told John that he had gone home, and John wondered what could be more like home than dinner at Angelo's with Clara, Sherlock, Molly, and the Doctor.

Then, there was the Christmas when Clara almost didn't wake up. The Doctor came around more frequently after that, and John went with him and Clara.

As time passed, the ache of losing Sherlock lessened, but it was never fully gone. As he walked home, he took great care to avoid Baker Street. It was just too painful to walk down. He would give anything just to have his best friend back.

He approached the door to the flat and paused. It had been thrown open violently. He ran inside, shouting Clara's name. There was no trace of her anywhere. John began to panic as he tore the place apart.

Clara's phone had been flung to the floor. With trembling hands, John picked it up and began to search through her contacts. He found the Doctor's name and dialed.

"Clara? How can I help you?"

"It's John. I need your help. Clara's gone missing. I think she was taken."

* * *

**AN: **Sorry if this feels rushed. I wanted to explain how those events fit in here without rewriting the shows. This prologue is mainly just set up for the story. Next chapter will be back to normal.


	2. Taken

**AN: **I do not own Sherlock or Doctor Who, though I'm sure you already knew that. I guess I've been in a writing mood today, but I really wanted to get a real chapter put up.

* * *

A few minutes after John hung up the phone, he could hear the all too familiar sound of the TARDIS landing in his living room. Normally, the noise filled John with eager excitement, but today, it filled him with dreading anticipation.

The Doctor rushed out of the TARDIS with his sonic screwdriver held in front of him. He immediately began scanning the room for any trace of Clara's kidnapper. His face was drawn tight with worry and only became tighter as the Doctor's search became more frantic.

"These readings are definitely alien," he finally said. "It's odd, though. For some reason, they're really stale looking."

"Can you find her?" John asked, fearing the answer. "I can't lose anyone else."

"I'll find her," the Doctor promised. "Even if I have to go to Hell, which I already have."

"I called the police," John added. "Doctor, Molly is missing too."

The Doctor stopped his panicked searching and froze. "What if the same thing took her?" he asked.

"It's worth checking out," John agreed.

The Doctor opened the TARDIS door with a snap of his fingers and hurried inside. John followed, taking a brief moment to look back on the mess of a flat he was leaving. He wondered how long it would be before he returned, and if he would be returning alone or with Clara.

He shook his head to clear his worrying and stepped inside. The door shut quickly behind him. It was as if the TARDIS had picked up on the urgency of the situation. Knowing her, she probably had. She was very smart and extremely perceptive.

As the TARDIS flew into the vortex, John's mind wandered to the first time he had set foot in the TARDIS. Clara had been with him then, and so had Sherlock. Despite the fact that he was chasing a homicidal alien, he had been much happier then.

The TARDIS shook as she landed in Molly's flat. John and the Doctor wasted no time in exiting and searching the place over. The Doctor's sonic whirred, but judging by his facial expression, he was having about as much luck as he had back at John and Clara's flat.

"Same?" John asked.

"Same," the Doctor confirmed.

John groaned and sat down on Molly's couch. A million scenarios raced through his mind, each more gruesome than the last. He couldn't help but picture Clara dead with a monstrous alien standing over her.

"John," the Doctor called, pulling him out of his morbid thoughts. "We will find them."

"I know," he replied, doing his best to sound confident. "What do we do first?"

"We consult UNIT," the Doctor decided. Placing the screwdriver back in his pocket, he bounded back to the TARDIS.

The Doctor was trying to sound confident as well, but John could hear the subtle nervousness in his voice. Clara was his best friend, and John knew as well as anyone how terrifying losing your best friend was. With a sigh, he followed the Doctor back inside the TARDIS.

"Weren't you impersonating UNIT when we first met?" John asked. The memories of that day that assaulted him hurt, causing him to cringe involuntarily.

"Yes," the Doctor answered. "Don't worry, they won't mind. They love me. In fact, they even made me President of the Earth temporarily."

Despite the grim situation, John chuckled. "When was that?"

"The day the Cybermen rose from the ground."

John shook his head and marveled at the strange life he led. With all that he had lost, he started to wonder if it was worth it. He quickly reminded himself that it had brought him Sherlock and Clara, and even if it was only for a short time, it was always worth it.

The TARDIS shook as she landed. John followed the Doctor through the TARDIS door once more into what appeared to be someone's office. Two women on either side of a desk were staring at them in shock. "Doctor?" the one behind the desk asked. "What brings you here?"

"It's really you," the other one gasped in amazement. "You look different."

"This is my friend, John Watson," the Doctor introduced. "John, meet Chief Scientific Officer Kate Stewart and Dr. Martha Smith. We need your help."

* * *

As Sherlock stretched and groaned, he wondered if he looked as awful as he felt. Moriarty's network was more extensive than he had ever imagined, and destroying it was starting to be exhausting. Every muscle ached, and he longed to go back home to John and Molly.

An old cut on his arm had opened up again and was bleeding all over the hotel sink. One of Mycroft's men had stitched it up, but not very well apparently. Sherlock gently cleaned it with a threadbare rag and cursed his life.

What I wouldn't give to go to the Sisters of the Infinite Schism, Sherlock grumbled to himself. This job was the most dangerous he had ever had, and he was covered in injuries. He remembered how the doctors there had completely healed John's broken arm in mere hours. Sherlock's wrist was still sore from where it had been broken months ago, and he was getting impatient with it.

Cursing his life once again, Sherlock collapsed onto the bed. The springs squeaked loudly underneath him. Sherlock sighed as he buried his face into the tiny pillow. Mycroft couldn't even book him a nice hotel most days, despite all his money.

Sherlock's phone rang, and he groaned before digging it out of his pocket. "What is it Mycroft?" he grumbled.

"I'm on a private jet to collect you," his brother answered.

"I'm not done here yet," Sherlock protested.

"I'll send someone else in to finish it up," Mycroft assured him.

"Fine," Sherlock sighed. "Where am I due next?"

"London," Mycroft answered.

Sherlock sat straight up in the bed. Had he really heard that right? "I'm coming home?"

"Yes," his brother replied. "Something's come up. I'll explain in a minute. Come to the field behind the hotel, where I dropped you off."

Mycroft hung up, and Sherlock thrust his phone back into his pocket as he jumped off the bed. He threw his clothes into his suitcase and ran out the door. He received a few odd looks as he ran down the hallway and stairs, but he wasn't paying much attention.

He paused at the desk to check out, and continued to run outside the building. He ran around the back of the building and saw Mycroft's jet waiting in the field. For the first time in a year and a half, a genuine smile broke out on his face.

He ran across the field, straight to the jet. Mycroft was waiting for him inside. Sherlock hurriedly sat across from him, still grinning. The grin vanished as soon as Sherlock looked at Mycroft's grim face. "What's wrong?" he demanded.

The jet took off towards home, but it was not as joyous as Sherlock had imagined it would be. His stomach was in knots as Mycroft searched for the right words.

"I know about the case you took with the Doctor," he began. "I know who he is. I've been monitoring UNIT for some time now."

Sherlock nodded, waiting for him to continue.

"I've been monitoring John as well, like you asked."

Sherlock's internal alarm screamed at him. "What happened? Is he alright?"

"Clara and Molly have gone missing, and John's gone off with the Doctor to find them. Sherlock, they were taken."

Sherlock's jaw dropped in shock, which is something that rarely happened. "Taken?" he finally asked. "By who?"

"That's what I'm hoping you can find out."


	3. The Dark Room

The dull throb in her skull was the first thing Clara Oswald noticed when she woke up.

She squeezed her eyes tight and pressed her fingers to her temples. The pain didn't subside. Clara pushed herself up into a sitting position on the mattress. When her head protested, she laid down again and curled into a tight ball.

The second thing she noticed was that she wasn't in her bed.

Normally, Clara would have realized that instantly, but the pain in her head dulled her senses. She struggled to remember how she got there, but the throbbing was too great. She could barely focus on anything else. Everything was a blur.

Clara forced her eyes open. She blinked a few times, dazed. Pitch black darkness completely surrounded her. She waved her hands in front of her face to confirm that she couldn't see anything.

Panic started to set in. Clara frantically felt around the mattress, looking for any clue to help her figure out where she was. Her hand struck a warm arm. "Doctor?" Clara asked hesitantly. Her voice was groggy, and she had trouble forcing the word out.

Clara moved her hand down to the other person's hand. It felt like a women's hand. She squeezed it tightly, afraid that it might disappear if she let go. "You 'wake?" she managed to ask.

The other women groaned. "Sh'lock?" she slurred. Clara's heart calmed as she recognized the voice.

"Molly?" she asked. "'ts me. Clara."

"Clara?" Molly groaned. The hand Clara held gripped back. "Where 'm I? Why'st dark?"

"C'n you 'member 'nything?" Clara slurred.

Molly only groaned in response, "Head hurts."

Clara forced herself into a kneeling position. The ache in her skull was starting to lesson. She gently felt Molly's forehead to check for fever, but the other girl felt normal. Clara laid down again. She let go of Molly's hand and pressed her back up against the pathologist's.

Memories of the previous night were starting to come back to her. She could remember being at home, waiting for John to return when someone broke down her door. Anything after that was fuzzy. Clara felt around her head, looking for sign of injury. She found nothing.

With relief, Clara decided that she was drugged, not concussed. Hopefully whatever was in her system would wear off soon. Then, she could try to find a way out. "You 'lright?" she asked.

"'m sc'red," Moly replied.

"Me too," Clara stated.

Molly pressed closer to Clara. The warmth of her friend was all Clara needed to keep calm. When she travelled with the Doctor, she ended up in situations like these more times than she cared to admit. However, this was the first time she was without the Doctor. It was also the first time she had been completely unable to see. Still, despite the extra difficulties, Clara was confident that she would find her way out.

"We'll be fine," Clara said reassuringly. "I promise I'll get us out of here." Though sleep still clung to her voice, talking was getting easier.

With her headache nearly gone, Clara pushed herself up and crawled to the wall. The mattress was in a corner. She felt her way along the wall, still crawling. She didn't have the energy to stand yet. Molly groaned at her absence, but Clara hardly registered it.

The floor was cold cement. It hurt Clara's knees to crawl over it, but she was determined to get her bearings and find out as much about the room as possible. As she continued, she kept one hand on the wall for reassurance, and the other felt the way in front of her.

She hit the next corner sooner than she expected. There had been nothing in her way. Clara turned, continuing to feel her path. She crawled a little ways before her hand came into contact with a large, steel door. Using it as support, Clara pushed herself to her feet. Her hands explored the door, looking for a knob or a window. Though she had hoped, she wasn't surprised when she found nothing.

"Clara?" Molly called out. "You still there?"

"I'm here," Clara answered. "I just thought I would map out the room."

"Good idea," Molly returned. Clara could hear her weight on the mattress shifting. After a second, the sound changed into Molly's hands hitting the cement floor.

Clara continued to slowly feel her way along the wall. Each footstep was cautious as she maneuvered to the next corner. Besides the door, there was nothing out of the ordinary along that wall.

"Clara?" Molly called out again, sounding panicked. "Where are you?"

"I'm at the opposite corner from the mattress. Where are you?"

"I don't know," Molly replied. Her voice rose a pitch in fear.

"Don't tell me you just crawled out into the darkness," Clara said.

"Yes," came the meek reply. "Clara, help me."

* * *

Molly's breaths came in faster as she realized that she was lost in the darkness. She sat up and grabbed her shirt in her fists. She could feel waves of panic rushing through her as a stray tear streaked down her cheek. Somewhere in her mind, she knew that she needed to calm down, but her thoughts were too disorganized.

"I can help you, Molly, but you need to calm down first."

"Okay," Molly responded. Her body was shaking, and her breathing only quickened. She clenched her fists tighter, but it didn't seem to help. Molly was spiraling fast into panic.

Through the darkness, Clara's voice broke through. It took Molly a few seconds to realize that the teacher was singing. Using all her willpower, Molly focused in on her voice. The calming effect was almost instantaneous.

"Okay," Molly repeated. Her heart was still pounding, but she was in control of her body again. "What do I do now?"

"Can you crawl towards the sound of my voice? The room isn't very big."

"Alright," Molly agreed. She turned to face where she thought Clara was standing and started to crawl. "Keep talking."

"As soon as we get out of here, I'm going to personally kill each alien that's keeping us here."

Molly's hand came into contact with a foot. "Clara?" she asked.

The person in front of her knelt down and took her hand. "Yes," Clara answered. "It's me."

Relief coursed through Molly as he clung tightly onto the hand. With Clara's help, she stood up and brought her other hand to the wall. The two women held to each other as they made their way across the room. "You really think this is aliens?" Molly asked.

"Who else could it be?" Clara responded.

Eventually, the pair made it back to the mattress. They collapsed onto it with great relief. It seemed to be the only thing in the dark room. Like before, Clara and Molly pressed their backs to one another.

Clara's confidence comforted Molly as her eyes drooped. She had to believe that they would get out, or she would lose all hope. Her exhaustion claimed her, and Molly fell into a deep sleep.


	4. Straws

As Martha looked into the Doctor's eyes, he couldn't help the assault of memories that rushed to the front of his mind. It felt like it was lifetimes ago when he last saw her, and yet here she was, alive and well.

"How long has it been?" Martha asked.

"More than a thousand years," he answered.

"I like this face," Martha said. "It's very different, but it suits you. I almost didn't recognize you, but the eyes give you away."

"Doctor," Kate interrupted. "What do you need our help with?"

"Two of our friends have been taken by aliens," the Doctor answered.

Martha and Kate exchanged a worried look. "You must be very desperate to come to us," Kate said.

"These aliens are good. They know how to cover their tracks. I can't find them alone," the Doctor admitted.

Kate nodded solemnly and sat at her desk. "I'll run a quick scan of alien sightings within the past few months," she said. Her eyes flitted across the screen. "There's only been four, and they've all been non-hostile. Things have been relatively quiet." With a click of her mouse, the printer whirred to life. "I'm printing the list out for you. You're welcome to use our computers to take a look at the footage."

Martha retrieved the printed paper and handed it to the Doctor. "I can take the two of you down to a computer room, if you'd like," she offered.

The Doctor took the paper and glanced over the names. The list contained Vivocci, Hath, Silurians, and Judoon, neither of which were sighted anywhere in Britain. It felt as if his hearts dropped into his stomach at the unlikelihood of either of these aliens having Clara. Still, the Doctor decided it was worth looking into, but he hoped that he wasn't wasting time. The longer Clara and Molly were gone, the smaller there chances of finding them alive were.

"Yes, thank you," the Doctor replied.

"Do you think we've got a chance of finding the ones who took Clara?" John asked, speaking for the first time.

"Yes," the Doctor lied. "We'll find them soon. I know it." He smiled, hoping the fear in his eyes wouldn't give him away.

* * *

Sherlock slumped down on Molly's couch, feeling defeated. He had spent hours searching both Clara's and Molly's flats, and he still couldn't identify which alien took them. Whatever they were, they were good. No, that was an understatement. They were experts.

"It's like they were expecting me," Sherlock mused aloud.

"The Doctor is an excellent tracker too," Mycroft gently reminded him.

"Not like I am," Sherlock replied, shaking his head. "Are you positive we're dealing with aliens?"

"Yes," Mycroft answered.

"It looks like John trashed Clara's place looking for her. Even here, it's no clearer. Besides the busted door, there's no trace." Sherlock groaned as he ran his fingers through his hair. Things were looking grimmer by the second.

Absently, he rubbed at his sore wrist. It was just another reminder that the universe seemed to hate him. Ever since Moriarty's reappearance, he hadn't been able to catch a break.

Once again, he scanned the flat. Everything was in it's place. Sherlock squinted. There was a blue vase sitting on Molly's shelf, and from his position, he could see a tiny crack in it. "Well, that wasn't there before."

Mycroft's eyes shot over to the vase. "So there was a struggle," he said.

Sherlock bounded over to the shelf and examined the contents. "There's not as much dust," he concluded. "Whoever this was, they cleaned up their mess nicely."

"What do we do now?" Mycroft asked.

Sherlock grinned. "I need to make a phone call."

* * *

The Doctor had been pouring over the videos for nearly an hour as John and Martha sat back and watched. "I think we can cross the Silurian pair off. They just looked lost, and they weren't here for very long before they climbed back into their ship. Besides, that was in Germany. Though I am curious as to how they got here in the first place."

"So are we," Martha replied. "But like I said, they were non-hostile."

John sighed hopelessly. He knew the Doctor had been lying when he said that they would find Clara and Molly soon. For once, the Doctor was just as confused as John. Normally, he would have found that amusing, but in such a dire situation, it worried him to no end.

Not for the first time, John wished that Sherlock was there. Perhaps with his genius combined with the Doctor's, they would stand a chance at finding them. As it was now, they were searching for two needles in the proverbial haystack, except the haystack was infinite.

"The Judoon also, as it appears that they were only hunting down the Silurians," the Doctor added.

"What about the other two?" John asked.

"The two Vivocci were recovering a spaceship in Quebec. I suppose it's possible that they used that to sneak into London and kidnap out friends. They are our strongest suspects at the moment," the Doctor explained.

While it was indeed possible, it seemed highly unlikely to John. Judging by the fear in the Doctor's eyes, it seemed highly unlikely to him as well. Neither wanted to admit that they were grasping at straws. _I suppose straws is better than nothing, _John thought grimly.

"What about the Hath?" John asked.

"They touched down in Brazil, spied on the locals for a bit, then flew away. I would count them out."

"The Hath are generally peaceful anyways, so long as they are unprovoked," Martha added.

John's phone began ringing. With a heavy sigh, he pulled it out of his pocket. When he saw the number, he froze. "That's not possible," he said softly.

"What is it?" Martha asked curiously.

"It's my friend, only he's been dead for over a year now," John replied.

The Doctor whipped around fast to face John. "Sherlock?" he asked.

John nodded in response before answering the phone. "Hello?" he asked, holding his breath.

"John," the unmistakable voice on the other end responded.

"It really is you," John replied, amazed. "How?"

"Short version: not dead. Look, I know you have questions, and I'll explain everything. First, I need you and the Doctor to come pick me up. I'm at Molly's flat. I think I can help you find Clara and Molly."

"Bloody hell," John murmured, shaking his head with disbelief as the Doctor watched on in amazement. "Alright, we're coming."

There was a click from the other end, signaling that Sherlock had hung up again. John stared dumbly down at his phone. Of course, he had dreamed about this moment where he found at that his best friend wasn't dead, but he had lost all hope of it ever happening, and what he did imagine certainly wasn't anything like that phone call. Ecstatic joy rose through him, but it mingled with seething rage and bitter hurt. It was as if he was feeling everything at once. The overall feeling wasn't pleasant.

Martha was at the computer, moving files around. "I've put the videos onto a flash drive for you. It sounds as if you have to go somewhere."

"Yes," the Doctor agreed. He accepted the flash drive and pocketed it. "Where are we going, John?"

"Molly's flat," John answered.

As the pair stepped into the TARDIS, Martha raised her hand in farewell. "I hope you find your friends," she said.

The doors shut, and the Doctor set to work putting the coordinates in. "I don't believe it," John stated.

"Neither do I," the Doctor admitted.

"Do you think it's a trap?" John asked.

"It's possible," the Doctor replied. "Never hurts to be prepared."

John nodded in agreement. "Your friend is nice," he said, changing the subject. "Did you ever travel with her?"

"Yes," the Doctor answered. "That was two lifetimes ago."

The TARDIS lurched into the vortex, and John clung onto the rails for balance. He had no idea if he was heading towards his best friend or certain doom, and he had no idea what he was hoping for.


	5. Naia

When Clara awoke again, it took her a few seconds to remember where she was. The dim light blinded her as she shielded her eyes. As much as it stung, she was relieved to be out of the darkness.

"Molly?" she called out, looking around.

"I'm here," the other women responded.

Clara sat up and turned to face the voice. The pathologist was sitting on the other side of the mattress with her back against the wall. Worry was etched all over her face. She smiled anyways. "I guess they got tired of leaving us in the dark," she said.

"I don't think that's a good sign," Clara replied. She rubbed at her eyes as she spoke, feeling the bags under her fingers.

"Perhaps not, but maybe we will get a glimpse at out captors," Molly said. "Once we know what we're up against, we can plan our escape."

Clara nodded in agreement, impressed by her friend's bravery. She did her best to look just as confident, but her heart was pounding in terror. She ran her shaky hands through her hair and breathed in deeply. If she was going to get out of this, she knew that she needed to stay calm, which was easier said than done. She had no idea who she was dealing with and no idea if the Doctor would be able to find her.

"The room looks exactly how I pictured it," she commented. Everything was cold and grey, as bleak as the situation seemed. Clara put her arms around her knees and shivered.

"It seems smaller," Molly replied. "At least I won't get lost again." She let out a dry, nervous laugh. Clara smiled, hoping to reassure her. She probably needed it more than she was letting on, Clara thought.

"They want us alive, right?" Molly asked. "That's why they captured us instead of outright killing us, so they'll have to feed us sometime."

_They want us alive._ Clara let the thought calm every other panicked thought inside her. If nothing else, there was one glimmer of hope there. Of course, it was possible that the reason they were still alive was because their captors wanted to torture them for information, but Clara tried not to let herself think too hard about that possibility. "More than likely, they're using us as bait. So, yes."

"Bait for who?" Molly mussed.

"The Doctor, possibly," Clara answered.

"Then why take me?" Molly asked.

"No idea."

Molly bit at her bottom lip gently. She looked over at Clara as if she was dying to tell her something, but judging by the way she was wringing her hands, she was afraid to. "What's wrong?" Clara asked.

"What if I'm bait for Sherlock?" she finally asked.

Clara blinked in surprise. "Who?"

"Sherlock Holmes," Molly confirmed.

"I thought he was dead," Clara said slowly.

Molly glanced down, unable to meet Clara's eyes. The guilt was eating away at her. Clara rested her hand on the pathologist's shoulder, hoping to provide some comfort. Her heart began to race as she held her breath in hope.

"He isn't dead," Molly whispered. "He faked his death so that Moriarty wouldn't have John killed and so he could take out Moriarty's remaining web. I wanted to tell you, honestly, but he wouldn't let me."

Clara stared in shock. Sherlock was alive. Her boyfriend's best friend was out there somewhere. She let out a giddy laugh. "Sherlock's alive," she said. "I don't believe it."

Molly's guilty eyes met hers in surprise. "You're not angry?" she asked.

"Of course I'm angry!" Clara exclaimed. "I mourned. I watched John mourn. I went to Hell, and it turns out the bloody git's not really dead. If we make it out of here, I'm going to track him down and punch him." However, Clara was too exhausted to feel as angry as she knew she should be. Besides, she had bigger problems to worry about.

"If we get out of here?" Molly asked softly.

"When," Clara answered firmly, cursing herself for her slip. "I meant when."

"Sure you did," Molly whispered, almost too softly to hear.

Clara opened her mouth to respond, but the metal door started to creek. Her eyes shot over to it to see it moving.

* * *

Molly held her breath as the door was pushed open. Her stomach felt as if it was doing somersaults inside her. A wave of nausea rushed through her, accompanied by ice cold fear. She could hear her blood pounding in her head.

A shadow of a humanoid creature appeared in the doorway. Slowly, the alien stepped into the room. It was impossible to tell what they were underneath the green suit they were wearing. The clothing covered everything. Even their hands and feet were covered by thick gloves and combat boots. An astronaut's helmet rested on their head.

"Who are you?" Clara demanded. Not for the first time, Molly wished that she were half as brave as her friend.

"That is unimportant," the alien responded. The garbled voice was coming through a speaker attached to their neck.

"No, that's actually very important," Clara shot back.

The creature raised their hands to their head and pulled the helmet off. Molly's mouth parted in shock when their face was revealed. "You're human," she said. "A human women, just like us."

In the dim light, Molly could make out light freckles and brown, emotionless eyes on a human face. Green tattoos covered the sides of her face like a winding river. Red hair was pulled back into a ponytail behind her.

"I am not female," their captor responded. "I am agender. If you cooperate, you will find that our world is not nearly as restricted by the binary gender roles as yours is."

"And if we don't cooperate?" Clara asked.

Their captor turned their gaze to her. "Then you will be thrown back into the darkness," they responded.

"What is it you want?" Molly asked before Clara could threaten their captor.

"Help," the other person responded simply.

"And you didn't just ask us? Why?" Molly asked.

"When the Doctor last left this place, it was not on the best of terms. He would not come if we called, nor would he bring the detective we also seek."

"He would have," Clara insisted. "Let us go, and I promise that he will help."

Confusion crossed their captor's face. "What makes you so sure?"

Moly snorted. "Neither the Doctor nor Sherlock could resist an opportunity to show off."

Clara smiled uneasily. "Besides, he loves to help. It's what he does."

Their captor stared at them for a moment, analyzing them. "Alright," they said finally. "I believe you."

They stepped forward and extended their hands to the two women, who gratefully took them. "My name is Naia, and I'm a soldier in a bitter war that I'm trying to bring to an end."

"You know that the Doctor won't help you fight, right?" Clara asked as Naia helped her stand.

"Although Sherlock might," Molly added.

"The Doctor is needed to bring peace," Naia answered. "As is the detective. If you will come with me, I will explain everything."

Molly and Clara followed Naia out of the room and into a long, dark hallway. Dim, flickering lights shone overhead, but it was not enough to see to the end. "I must apologize," Naia began, "for I am about to bring you into an even greater darkness than the one you experienced in that room."

"We will be fine," Clara insisted. "Trust me, we want to help."

As the trio moved down the hallway, fear began to set in again as Molly wondered just what she was getting herself into.


	6. Reunion

It wasn't a trap. That much was obvious as soon as John stepped out of the TARDIS. The man in front of him was real- too real. John's breath caught in his throat as emotions overwhelmed him. All he could do was stare as he tried to figure out just what he was feeling.

Sherlock Holmes looked like he had aged ten years. Although his eyes lit up at the sight of his best friend, there was a different look in them. They seemed harder; emptier even. He was also thinner. His cheek and collar bones stuck out even more than normal. Still, when Sherlock smiled, all of that disappeared, and John only saw the man who had let him believe that he was dead for over a year.

"It really is you," John said finally.

"Indeed," Sherlock agreed, his smile growing wider. "Do you want to know how I did it?"

Suddenly, Sherlock was holding the side of his face, and John's knuckles were stinging. John couldn't even remember making a fist, much less connecting it with his best friend's face, but there was no other explanation for what happened. He stared at his own hand in shock for a second before regaining his composure.

"You let me grieve for you for a year, Sherlock," John said softly. "I don't want to know how. I just want to know why."

Sherlock had the decency to look uncomfortable. _Perhaps he is,_ John mussed. _Perhaps the past year has changed him, because the look on his face is more genuine than I'm used to seeing._

"That's a bit complicated. Short version is that Moriarty had a sniper trained on you and would have killed you had I not jumped."

"Then why didn't you tell me you were alive?" John asked.

"I wanted to many times," Sherlock rushed to assure him. "But I needed Moriarty's web to believe I was dead while I hunted them down."

John flinched when a gentle hand touched his shoulder. He turned toward the Doctor, who's face had taken on a very distant look. John had never before thought of the Time Lord as a lost puppy, but that was exactly how he looked now. "I understand that this is a conversation the two of you need to have, but perhaps you can have it after we get Clara and Molly back?" the Doctor suggested softly.

With reluctance, John nodded. He turned back to Sherlock, finally noticing that his brother was also in the room. "Mycroft?" John asked in surprise. "You know about this alien stuff?"

The politician looked mildly offended. "I am a high-ranking government official. Of course I know about 'this alien stuff', Mr. Watson."

John chuckled lightly to himself. "Alright, Sherlock. What have you got?"

The detective clasped his hands together and narrowed his eyes in thought. Despite the anger and hurt, John felt a giddy happiness bubbling in his stomach as he watched his best friend, who was alive. Not dead. A laugh escaped him, but nobody else seemed to notice.

"I'm not convinced that we're dealing with aliens," Sherlock said.

"What?" the Doctor asked, surprise seeping into his voice.

"Nothing about this break-in seems alien to me," Sherlock stated.

"So, you think we're dealing with ordinary people?" John asked, incredulous. "Because that never happens to us."

Sherlock began pacing the room, his eyes flying over every piece of evidence that only his genius mind could see. "Maybe not. The only motive I could think of for the same person to kidnap both Molly and Clara is connected to the Doctor. We know that time travel exists, and that the Doctor is not the only one who can harness it. If I had to guess, I would say that we have a group of humans not from Earth, or even this time, trying to get the Doctor's attention."

"You never guess," John joked.

"That was before aliens," Sherlock reminded him with a smile.

"So, what's our next move?" John asked.

Both Sherlock and the Doctor remained silent. John sighed. He had been afraid of that.

"I could help?" Mycroft suggested. "It sounds like the three of you are out of your depth here. An extra mind working on the problem could only help."

"Good idea," the Doctor agreed. He was about to say more when a static sound drifted into the room from the TARDIS, cutting him off.

"Doctor?" came a familiar voice through the static. "Are you there?"

* * *

_Unbelievable, _the Doctor thought to himself as soon as he saw Clara, Molly, and a stranger on the screen. His two friends looked unharmed, even happy. _No, that word's not strong enough. This is miraculous._

"We're alright, Doctor," Clara quickly reassured him. "Everything's alright. We just need you to come to-"

Clara was cut off by a loud rumbling. She exchanged a worried look with the stranger. "They have found us," they announced. "We must hurry."

"Clara, where are you?" the Doctor demanded.

"Adder," Molly answered for her. "But Naia says you won't be able to get here with your TARDIS. They said that the others found out what they were up to and did a thing."

"A thing?" the Doctor asked. "Molly, what thing?"

"I don't know. It was some sciency, alien thing."

"We must go now," Naia spoke up for the first time. "Doctor, rest assured that I mean your friends no harm. I am sorry to do this, but I'm desperate. I need your help. Hurry."

The screen blacked out, leaving the Doctor with more questions than answers. At least now, he had a place to start looking. He had never heard of Adder before, but he was sure that it wouldn't be too hard to find, especially once started tracing the call.

"Mycroft, why don't you take Sherlock to the med bay?" the Doctor suggested. "He's been holding his wrist funny."

"You have one of those?" Sherlock asked at the same time Mycroft replied with, "Good idea, Doctor. Thank you."

The politician dragged his brother away, leaving the Doctor and John alone. With a sigh, John collapsed against the console. It had been a long day, and the Doctor would have suggested that he rest somewhere, but he knew that arguing with the other man would do no good.

"You seem to be taking this well," the Doctor said instead.

"This is all so surreal," John replied with a laugh. "Tomorrow, once I realize he's still here, I'll probably freak out."

The Doctor nodded, seeing his old family in his mind's eye. It had been a lifetime ago, but he still remembered faking his own death in front of Amy, Rory, and River.

"He did it to protect you," the Doctor said quietly. "Don't be so hard on him."

* * *

Being the genius that he was, it didn't take Mycroft long to figure out how to use the alien technology to fix Sherlock's wrist. Even the detective was impressed at the speed with which his older brother became fluent in Time Lord technology. Sherlock rubbed at the brace on his newly set wrist and watched as Mycroft carefully placed things back in their spot from his position on the hospital bed.

"Are you sure you want to come, brother? This could get dangerous. Not to mention, there's a lot of legwork involved," Sherlock asked, observing his brother.

"I'm sure, Sherlock," Mycroft replied with a faint smile, but Sherlock could see the much larger one he was holding back.

"Why?" Sherlock questioned.

Mycroft sat next to him on the bed. The gesture felt strangely intimate. The brothers had never been close before, and this was the closest physically that they had been in a long time. "I'm bored, Sherlock," he answered.

"Bored?" Sherlock replied with a snort. "Careful, Mycroft, you're starting to sound like me."

Mycroft huffed and replied, "Indeed I am. The truth is, Sherlock, that some days, I want much more than an office desk. I want to see the stars."

Sherlock arched an eyebrow. "You want to see the stars?" he asked, incredulous. "Are you even hearing yourself right now?"

"What can I say?" Mycroft replied with a shrug. "Boredom changes people. Besides, I want to help your friends."

The two brothers exchanged smiles. Sherlock couldn't help but wonder how long it had been since they had done that. It must have been when they were still children. _Where did it all go wrong?_ Sherlock wondered as he laughed with his older brother. _Why did we lose this?_

"We should be careful," Sherlock said. "If we go out like this, John might think we're civil."

The TARDIS lurched, causing the brothers to nearly fall. They both laughed at each other, and for just one moment, everything seemed okay. Mycroft stood first and offered his hand to Sherlock. The younger brother happily accepted it and rose to join the older. "Well, we're off to see those stars, brother."


	7. Running

"Something is wrong."

Though Naia was only confirming what Clara had already suspected, her heart jumped at the worry hidden in their voice. Naia stood on top of a sandy hill, looking across the barren landscape and into the red sunset. Their posture was stiff; tense even.

"What is it?" Clara asked as she climbed the hill to join her.

"I did not come alone," Naia said. "There were two others with me. We agreed to meet here."

"Perhaps they were held up?" Molly supplied, running up the hill behind Clara.

"They are either dead or captured," Naia replied. "And we need to move. Fast."

Without another word, Naia took off running down the hillside. With a long-suffering sigh, Clara sprinted after them with Molly in tow. Running was something she could do. When she travelled with the Doctor, she had gotten used to it. Naia may have been a soldier, but Clara could easily keep up as they ducked between sandhills, hoping to keep out of sight. The pathologist, however, started to lag behind after a few minutes of nonstop running. Clara could hear her harsh breathing and was unsurprised to see how red her face was when she turned to look at her.

"Naia, we need to stop," Clara called out.

Their new companion turned around, eyes flashing with annoyance that quickly turned to concern when they saw Molly's condition. "Forgive me," they began. "I forget that not everyone is a soldier."

"I'm alright," Molly huffed. She bent over, placing her hands on her legs and panting hard.

"You are not," Naia replied. "Sit. The hills should keep us from sight."

Molly complied, almost collapsing to the ground. Though she tried to hide it, Clara could see her clutching at her stomach. She sat next to her friend, her own legs beginning to ache. She hadn't sprinted that hard in a long time. Whatever was going on had Naia afraid.

"Perhaps now would be a good time to fill us in," Clara suggested.

Naia nodded in agreement. "The entire planet is at war with itself. We are all human, but not all of us are completely human. Many of us have had our D.N.A. altered through various means, such as I. It is the reason I can run for miles without stopping."

"What's in your D.N.A. to allow that?" Molly asked. Her breathing had slowed to a more normal rate.

"Traces of weevil D.N.A., which I inherited from my mother, who inherited it from her mother, who inherited it from her father, who was injected with it to make him a better soldier during the last war," Naia answered. "During that time, many people were injected with the D.N.A. of other species, and it has been passed on through the generations."

"Is that what's causing today's problems?" Clara questioned.

"Yes," Naia replied. "Since we are stronger than them, the pure humans want us exterminated."

"That's terrible!" Molly exclaimed.

"Indeed," Naia agreed. "But now, the altereds want to wipe out the pures as well. It's one huge, bloody mess."

"And you brought us to stop it?" Clara asked.

Naia paused, licking their lips. "Not exactly," they admitted.

Groaning, Clara rubbed her face with her hands. With all her experience, she didn't know why she hadn't seen that coming.

"I may not have been fully honest with you about the circumstances surrounding your capture," Naia continued.

"Well, now would be a great time to tell us the truth," Clara replied.

"I thought you might not come with me if I told you the truth, but I can see now that you two are braver than I originally thought," Naia said. "You were captured by the altereds who hoped to use you to convince the Doctor and Sherlock Holmes to destroy the pures."

"He would never!" Clara exclaimed at the same time Molly shouted, "He wouldn't!"

A surprised smile formed on Naia's lips. "I am glad to hear that. I am with a small group of both altereds and pures who want to bring peace between both of us, and we are the few who believe that peace doesn't have to come at the price of any more lives."

Naia looked as if they were going to continue talking, but shouting rose over the hills. "We need to move. Are you alright to run?" they asked Molly.

"I am," she answered. "Just get us out of here."

* * *

The trio hadn't been able to run far before a gunshot froze them. Molly was about to search for the source of the sound when a grunt from Naia demanded her full attention. The altered's shoulder was bleeding, and they were trying to reach it with their hand to slow it.

Molly pulled off her shirt, leaving only a thin tank top covering her torso, and approached Naia. She pressed the balled up fabric to her wound and said, "You should sit."

Naia nodded, moving slowly to sit on the ground so that Molly could move with her. The pathologist's eyes scanned the land around them, but she couldn't see anyone. "Where did that come from?" she asked.

On the top of the hill closest to the left of the group, a figure stood, silhouetted against the sunset. In their hands appeared to be a gun of some sort, though it was hard for Molly to see. "Clara!" she cried out, panicked.

The teacher lunged forwards, grabbing the gun attached to Naia's hip and quickly fired at the hilltop figure. Miraculously, she hit her target, and their attacker fell.

"Please tell me that was only a stun gun," Clara begged as she knelt next to Naia.

"It was," Naia responded. "We need to move, now. If they are this close to the camp, that means that they have moved, and we need to find them."

The altered started to stand, but Molly gently pushed on their shoulders. "The bullet only grazed the back of your shoulder, but I need to patch you up before we keep moving," she explained. "Do you have a first aid kit?"

Naia reached into one of their pockets. "Better," they said, pulling out Clara's phone. "We need to call the Doctor. Now."

Clara grabbed the phone eagerly and immediately set it to face time the Doctor. She held it out in front of the group, waiting for the Doctor to appear.

"He won't be able to use his TARDIS anymore," Naia explained. "By now, they know I have you two, and the they'll activate the space-time lock that they were going to use to keep him from leaving. I'll explain how it works later, but I may be able to set up a signal for him to trace. We just need to tell him where we are so that he will be ready when I do."

"Where are we, exactly?" Molly asked.

"Adder," Naia answered. "The Doctor should know where that is."

The TARDIS back wall appeared on the screen. "Doctor? Are you there?" Clara called out.

The Doctor appeared suddenly on screen, followed by John, Sherlock, and Mycroft Holmes.

"We're alright, Doctor," Clara assured him. "Everything's alright. We just need you to come to-"

The sound of gunfire in the distance cut off what she was about to say. She exchanged a look with Naia. "They have found us," they announced. "We must hurry."

"Clara, where are you?" the Doctor demanded, his voice fuzzy through the phone speakers.

"Adder," Molly answered when she saw that Clara and Naia were looking for the sound's source. "But Naia says you won't be able to get here with your TARDIS. They said that the others found out what they were up to and did a thing."

"A thing?" the Doctor questioned. "Molly, what thing?"

"I don't know. It was some sciency, alien thing," she answered

"We must go now," Naia interrupted. "Doctor, rest assured that I mean your friends no harm. I am sorry to do this, but I'm desperate. I need your help. Hurry."

Clara shut the message off and stood. "Let's go," she said.

"Naia's still hurt," Molly said, gesturing with her head to where she was still pressing her shirt into their back.

"I will be alright for now," Naia insisted. "I may know where my camp is going. You can take care of my shoulder there."

Slowly, Molly and Naia stood together without taking any pressure off the altered's wound. As they began to walk, Molly kept pressing, hoping that Naia wasn't lying about her condition. Her shirt wasn't soaked through, so perhaps Naia wasn't so bad off. Molly had no choice but to trust them, especially since they were right about needing to move quickly.


	8. Adder

It didn't take long for the TARDIS to locate Adder. The small planet sat mostly alone among the stars without another planet nearby. Mycroft wondered how long it would take humans to find it and colonize it. Knowing that it would not be within his life time, he was grateful for the opportunity to join the Doctor and see it.

While he hung back, the other three men gathered around the scanner with a sense of familiarity, despite the elephant in the TARDIS. Although it seemed as if John looked straight through Sherlock sometimes, they were at least acting like the team they had once been. The Doctor, who had a mind similar to Sherlock's, fit perfectly into that team. Watching them work together to make the TARDIS work was almost as amazing as the stars.

"So, we've found where Adder is. Now, the tricky part is finding when. I'll need to fly us closer," the Doctor explained, pulling on a lever.

Automatically, John and Sherlock grabbed the console. Following their lead, Mycroft grabbed the rail behind him. The TARDIS shook violently, and his legs nearly slid out from under him. While the others gathered around the scanner again, Mycroft walked to the door. He looked out the window, down at the expanse of stars surrounding them. His eyes widened, and his mind almost could not believe what it was seeing.

"It looks like the call came from 4038," the Doctor said, narrowing his eyes at the scanner. "Something's wrong with it."

"The planet?" John asked, narrowing his eyes in a similar manner.

"No, the year," the Doctor answered, frowning. "I'd recommend holding on to something."

Mycroft lunged for the rail, holding tight as the Doctor pushed on the lever. The whole TARDIS quaked, causing him to loose his footing. His grip on the rail tightened, and his knuckles turned white.

"What the hell was that?" John grumbled as soon as the shaking stopped.

"That's not possible," the Doctor said softly, examining the screen.

"We can't get in," Sherlock said, glaring at the screen. "Why not?"

"The others did a thing," Mycroft answered, quoting Molly. "But who are the others, and what thing did they do?"

The Doctor shot him an approving smile before pushing the screen up. "There's one more question," he said, watching Mycroft.

"Why?" he answered, his mind already racing to find possible solutions. "There were noises in the background, and they appeared to be in a hurry. Possibly the planet is at war."

"One side wants us, and the other side doesn't," Sherlock supplied. "So we'll need to figure out which is which."

"It's like having three of me," the Doctor commented, flipping levers.

"I can do things too," John supplied, but was cut off by the shaking of the TARDIS before he could continue.

As soon as the floor was still, the Doctor bounded across the TARDIS. He stopped in front of a desk and pulled the drawer open, digging through the contents. Once he had found what he was looking for, he grabbed it and rushed back to the console.

He stretched out his hand, showing the rock he held. To Mycroft, it looked as if the small, gray stone could have been from Earth, but it was impossible to tell. There wasn't anything special about it that he could see.

"It's a signal," the Doctor explained before anyone could ask. "It's disguised as a rock so that nobody will mess with it."

"Brilliant," Mycroft murmured, watching the Doctor run to the door.

"This is what's going to help us get to Clara and Molly," he explained, throwing the door open. He moved his arm to throw the signal but froze, staring oddly at the landscape in front of him.

"What's wrong?" John prompted.

"This isn't Adder," the Doctor replied. "Well, it is, but it wasn't always called that. Right here, one-hundred years before the call came, it isn't."

The other three men gathered around the door, staring at the barren desert just outside. "It wasn't always like this," the Doctor explained. "Once, it was a lush forest."

"What happened to it?" Mycroft asked, staring in awe.

"The inhabitants turned the place into a war zone," the Doctor replied, his voice laced with bitterness. "I was there, trying to stop it. I had a different face then, one with spiky hair. I tried to help, but the people wouldn't listen. They destroyed the planet."

He tossed the signal out into the desert, then turned away. His eyes were heavy, reminding Mycroft of his own face when he thought Sherlock was dead. He could tell that there was more to the story then the Doctor had said.

_He lost someone_, Mycroft realized. He closed he door, his eyes still on the Doctor, who had taken his place at the console.

"Let's go find Clara and Molly," he announced, pushing a lever up.

* * *

Adder was the last place the Doctor had wanted to return to. Two lifetimes ago, after he had lost everything and while he was still trying to run from his fate, he had landed there in the middle of a brutal war. Humans were fighting humans and performing cruel experiments on each other to create the perfect soldier. Bodies littered the streets, and fires raged on for miles. The Doctor had tried to bring the leaders of both armies together to find peace, but he had failed, and then, just when he thought that he couldn't lose anything else, he did.

Still, Clara and Molly needed his help, so he would go. He steered the TARDIS forwards to the time of the call. She shook in protest, but the Doctor continued to work unfazed. Adder was a dangerous place, and he needed to save his friends.

The TARIDS shuddered violently, causing the Doctor to fall. His hand gripped the console as his feet tried to regain their footing. He glanced at the scanner, looking for their location. To his relief, the TARDIS had managed to land at the time of the call.

He looked around, seeing his friends on the floor. "We made it," he announced, his voice heavy with emotion.

John stood first, squaring his shoulders with impressive bravery. His eyes hardened like the soldier he used to be. Staring into them unnerved the Doctor. He felt as if he were looking into a mirror, reflecting back the man he once was and could never escape from. He quickly turned to Sherlock, who was grimacing and rubbing at his wrist again. Still, the detective extended a hand to his brother, pulling him up.

"I have no idea what awaits us outside these doors," the Doctor warned. "All I know is that this place is very dangerous, and that Clara and Molly need our help."

"I'll do whatever it takes," John replied.

The Doctor forced himself to meet the other man's eyes and nodded. "Be ready for anything."

Before he could continue, the sound of gunfire cut through the air, turning the Doctor's blood cold. There was banging on the door as if someone were trying to kick it in. "Soldiers," the Doctor grumbled.

"What do we do now?" Mycroft asked.

"We wait them out," he replied. "There's too many to fight, and we will not kill anyone on my watch."

"There's at least ten," Sherlock said.

"Now how could you know that?" John asked.

"From the sounds of the gun shots," he answered.

Despite the grim situation, John laughed. For a second, the Doctor could pretend that everything was normal and that his friends were okay. In reality, he knew that John and Sherlock were far from okay. He could see the pain in their eyes when they looked at each other and the stiffness of the muscles when they talked to each other.

Perhaps a high-intensity rescue mission was all the two friends needed to go back to normal, if that was even possible.

The Doctor pulled down the scanner, looking at the area outside the TARDIS. They were surrounded on all sides. Though he couldn't see their faces through the helmets, he could tell by their stance that they were human.

It hurt to see the species he loved so much acting so destructively. He would always fight to defend them, but sometimes all they needed was to be defended from themselves. It was a terrible curse to live as long as he did and see more death and destruction than he thought his hearts could handle.

"We're going to save them," John said, as if he could sense the Doctor's mood.

The Doctor nodded. He knew that he could save Clara and Molly, but now that he was here, what he really wanted was to save Adder.


	9. Crossing The Desert

As luck would have it, Naia was as quick of a healer as they were a runner. Molly couldn't tell how long they were running, but she knew that it wasn't long enough for any normal human's bullet wound to turn into a scar. It was a painful looking scar, but it was harmless. Her inner doctor voice still told her that she should examine the altered's shoulder, but she agreed with Naia. The best thing was to move away from any more possible danger.

Still, running was painful. As a pathologist, she was rarely required to push her body to the same limits Clara and Naia often had to. Both her legs and lungs felt as if they were on fire, and her stomach cramped so painfully that she almost couldn't stand, much less move. But with Clara and Naia getting further ahead of her, she had no choice but to push on.

Her legs felt like they were about to fall off. Molly gasped for air. It felt like her whole body would come apart under the stress. As a final act of protest, her stomach heaved, forcing Molly to come to a stop. She crouched to the desert floor, falling to her hands and knees as her stomach continued to rebel. It was mostly empty, but the little that did come up stung her esophagus and throat as she vomited into the sand.

Refusing to take another step, her body collapsed. Molly rolled onto her back. At the moment, the stars seemed closer than Naia's camp. She closed her eyes in defeat. Briefly, she wondered if it would be better if Clara and Naia continued without her.

A warm hand was placed on her forehead. "Molly, you're bright red. You should've said something sooner," Clara said, her tone worried.

"We needed to hurry," Molly panted, opening her eyes to look at Clara. Her friend's entire face was scrunched in concern.

"Not at the expense of your life," Naia replied. Though their voice remained calm, Molly could see the fear in their eyes. "The desert is a dangerous place. I would hate to lose you."

Molly managed a weak laugh. "Because then you'll lose your bargaining chip, right?"

Naia frowned, which wasn't very different from her usual face. "Because I would lose a brave soldier who I've come to respect."

Molly laughed again, and her sides ached with the movement. After vomiting and collapsing, she couldn't see a single respectable thing about her in that moment. Weakly, she pushed herself up into a sitting position. It hurt, but she needed to ease her own shame and prove herself worthy to be seen as a soldier.

"I mean it," Naia insisted, crouching next to her. They took her hand in their own, squeezing it gently. "We need you, Molly Hooper."

"They're right," Clara added. Her own face was pink, but not nearly as flushed as Molly's felt. "I don't know what I would do if you died now."

"Thank you," Molly rasped. Speaking hurt her throat, and she broke off into a coughing fit.

"However, we do need to hurry. Not only are we being chased, but you are not well," Naia informed them.

"I can move," Molly insisted. She pushed herself onto her feet, even though doing so felt like standing on hot coals.

"For now, we will walk," Naia decided.

Molly nodded in agreement, taking a few shaky steps forwards. Deciding that she would be fine, Naia turned and led again. Instead of walking ahead with them, Clara stayed behind with Molly. The trio walked on in silence. Eventually, Molly's limbs began to ache less, and her heart rate returned to normal. Her face still felt hot, but it was easier for her to move and breathe.

As she watched Naia nervously glancing over their shoulder every few seconds, she began to worry herself. Ever since arriving, Molly had been distracted enough that her situation hadn't sunk in. She was stranded on a strange planet, and she probably wasn't even in the right time. Although they had made contact with the Doctor, she had no guarantee that he would be able to find them. For now, all she had was hope.

"It has been quiet," Naia remarked. "We have been lucky."

"How much further?" Molly asked.

"Just over this hill," Naia replied, jogging towards the rocky hill sticking up out of the surface. Feeling more energized, Molly jogged to keep up with her. The hill wasn't very tall, and Molly scaled it easily, almost running into Naia. They stood at the peak, frozen.

"What's wrong?" Clara asked, glancing down.

Molly followed her gaze to a rocky crater. The walls stood tall, keeping most of the sand out. Only small amounts dusted the empty floor.

"This is it. This is where the camp should be."

"Maybe they were late?" Molly suggested. "Or maybe they went somewhere else."

Naia shook their head, biting their lip. "Look at the rocks," they whispered. "What color are they?"

"Grey and red," she answered, staring at the altered in confusion.

"The rocks here should only be grey."

* * *

Naia couldn't bring themself to walk down to the crater to see if any supplies had been left by whoever had raided the camp. The only upside was that there were no bodies. It was possible that everyone was still alive. Still, knowing that didn't stop the gruesome images from dancing around in their head. They squeezed their eyes shut, hoping to get rid of them.

Behind them, they could hear Clara and Molly's soft footsteps. The two Earth girls stepped much lighter than Naia did. They imagined that had to do with their DNA. During the short time Naia had known them, they had grown fond of the two. They wished that the Earth girls had never gotten into the mess, but it was done now. All they could do was try their best to get the two out of this safely.

"There's nothing," Clara announced.

Naia had been expecting that, but they had to make sure. They stood, brushing themself off. "We need to plan our next move," they said.

"Is it possible that some escaped?" Clara asked.

"I suppose it is," Naia replied. "It isn't likely, but I have hope."

"Then we go after them," Clara decided. "Do you know where they would have gone?"

"No," they admitted.

"I might," Molly offered.

"How?" Naia asked, staring in surprise.

Molly licked her lips nervously, and Naia felt their heart drop into their stomach. "There were bloody footprints leading away from the crater."

Naia swallowed the lump in their throat and nodded. "Then we walk that direction."

Molly turned and motioned with her hand for Naia and Clara to follow, which they did. Now, Naia hung back. Their entire body felt heavy with fear. They shook their head, trying to clear it. Focusing their eyes on Molly, they tried to distract themself but failed.

Molly and Clara were going to die on their watch.

It was actually more likely that they would be recaptured and they would be the only one killed, but the grim thought persisted. If one side caught them, they could potentially wipe out half the planet. Besides, they had quickly grown to care about Molly and Clara. They felt protective, the way they imagined a mother would feel. Naia couldn't fail.

"I am so sorry that you two were dragged into this," Naia said.

"You didn't do it," Clara quickly replied.

"Besides, we're grateful that you got us out," Molly added. "We have a fighting chance because of you."

Naia smiled slightly. With their spirits lifted, they began to walk faster. They jogged up the tall sand hill in front of them, pausing at the peak. Their eyes widened in shock at what lay at the bottom.

"H-how?" they stuttered. "That isn't possible."

As Clara and Molly joined them, Clara shouted excitedly. "He did it!"

"But how?" Naia repeated.

"Sometimes, miracles really do happen," Clara explained, sprinting down the other side of the hill to where the TARDIS sat.


	10. Reunited

It had been silent outside the TARDIS for awhile now, but the Doctor refused to leave (or let anyone else leave) until he had located Clara and Molly on the TARDIS scanner. Normally, he wouldn't have had any trouble pinpointing the location they had called from, but there was a strange signal messing with the TARDIS's technology. He grumbled as the third error message popped up onto the screen.

"Maybe we should go out and search for them now," John suggested for the fourth time.

"Too risky," Sherlock answered, before the Doctor could go off on another rant.

"Sherlock, the longer we wait, the more danger they're in," John insisted.

"I'm aware, and I want them back as much as you do," Sherlock argued, "but we are no use to Molly and Clara dead."

John sighed, nodding in acceptance before returning to his pacing. It was all he had been doing since the TARDIS had landed, and it was starting to drive the Doctor insane. Once or twice, he had been about to snap at John and demand he stop, but then he looked into his eyes and saw the desperation there. He couldn't bring himself to after that.

The Holmes brothers had sat in silence most of the time. Sherlock had his hands clasped under his chin while he stayed deep inside his mind palace, only emerging to comfort John on occasion. Mycroft's eyes wandered everywhere, soaking in every bit of information he could. Had the circumstances been different, the Doctor would have been eager to give Mycroft a full tour, but finding his friends was currently top priority.

A loud knock echoed through the room, pulling everyone out of their thoughts. No one dared to move as they stared in shock at the door. The knock sounded again, snapping the Doctor out of his trance. He rushed to the door and stared out the window at the faces just outside.

He nearly did a double take at the sight of Clara and Molly, alive and well, standing just outside. He almost didn't even notice the stranger standing just behind them in his excitement. As soon as he got over the shock, he threw the door open.

Clara was in his arms before he even had time to realize whether she had made the first move or he did. The two best friends beamed at each other. "It's such a relief to see you!" Clara exclaimed, pulling out of the hug.

"Same for you!" the Doctor replied, laughing happily, not even caring that he wasn't a hugger.

She ran to John next, embracing him tightly and kissing him. "I've missed you," he said at the first opportunity.

"I've missed you," she replied, leaning her head against his shoulder.

Meanwhile, Sherlock had pulled Molly into a tight hug, and he gently kissed her forehead. He said nothing, but the relief was obvious in his expression.

Gently, the door latched shut, and the Doctor finally turned to see the stranger. He looked into their eyes and immediately recognize the look they held.

"You're a soldier," he stated.

"Not by choice," they responded. "I am fighting to bring peace between both sides."

The Doctor nodded in acceptance. "Did you kidnap my friends?"

"No," they answered honestly.

"Did you rescue them?"

"Yes."

The Doctor smiled slightly, deciding that he could trust whoever was standing in front of him. "Do you have a name?"

"Naia," they responded.

"She helped you escape?" John asked.

"They," Clara corrected.

"I'm agender," Naia explained quickly. "You will refer to me as 'they'."

Turning their attention to the Doctor, the asked, "Will you help me?" Their brown eyes met his with hope.

"I will," he answered, smiling wider. "This war is about to end."

* * *

In her relief, Clara nearly collapsed onto the TARDIS seat next to Molly. "Good to be back, isn't it?" she asked, grinning widely.

Her friend grinned back, giving her tired face life. "Wonderful," Molly replied. "I never thought I'd see this box again."

Clara sighed and leaned back in the chair. Her eyes closed. She no longer had the energy to keep them open. "I need a long nap, followed by a long shower."

"I feel the same," Molly agreed. "I could sleep for years."

"Lucky for us, the TARDIS is full of bedrooms and bathrooms," Clara told her.

"Really?" Molly asked, shifting forwards in her seat. "I suppose I've never really explored the halls."

"Ask Sherlock," Clara said. "He can find a bed or bath for you."

Molly thanked her and stood. As Clara listened to her footsteps echo through the TARDIS, her eyes grew even heavier behind her eyelids. The adventure had worn her down, and she could only imagine how much worse Molly must be feeling since her body wasn't used to it. Clara nearly fell asleep in her chair before a voice from behind her brought her back to reality.

"You look like you could use a nap," John said.

Clara hummed in response. "Some help finding a bedroom would be nice. I still don't trust the TARDIS."

She extended her hand, and John pulled her up. In her tired state, she nearly fell on him. Chuckling slightly, he took her arm and helped her balance. "Your chamber awaits, milady," he joked.

Clara snorted as she followed him down the hall. "A real bed will be a nice change," she admitted.

"I'm sure they don't have much of those on Adder," John replied.

"Not the part of Adder I was on," Clara answered with a laugh. "What with being imprisoned and on the run and all."

"You lead an exciting life," John mussed.

He froze suddenly, his eyes squinting suspiciously down at her. "You weren't surprised to see Sherlock alive."

"Oh don't worry, I'm going to punch him later when I have the energy," Clara answered, trying to brush him off with a shrug.

"How did you know?" John questioned, intensifying his gaze.

Clara sighed. She had been hoping that she wouldn't have to give her friend away, but he deserved the truth. "Molly told me when we were first captured," she admitted.

John smiled, but it wasn't a happy smile. It was the smile of a man trying to hide his pain. "She knew," he said softly.

"I'm sorry," Clara whispered. "Believe me, I wish I could change how the past year and a half has been for you."

The pained expression remained on his face as he continued walking. "I'm glad he's back. Don't get me wrong," he began. He trailed off as if unsure how to continue.

"But you're angry," Clara replied. "And you've every right to be. Have you had a serious talk with him yet?"

John shook his head. "We've been too busy trying to find you."

"Well," Clara said. "Perhaps now you should."


	11. Planning

AN: Sorry for the long hiatus :( my schedule got pretty crazy, but things have calmed down now and I'm back to writing!

* * *

The TARDIS was eerily quiet. The Doctor, Naia, and Mycroft were who-knows-where, trying to come up with a plan, and Molly and Clara were asleep somewhere, leaving John and Sherlock alone in the dimly lit console room. John eyed Sherlock suspiciously. The detective gave no indication that he was aware of the other man's presence, but John knew he was analyzing the situation. He was frowning, and for the first time John considered how scary this must be for him.

Finally, he attempted to speak. "It's ok, Sherlock."

Sherlock turned to face him with wide eyes. "You're angry," he stated.

"Obviously," John muttered. He sighed, unsure of how to proceed. "But I suppose I can understand why you did it."

"You do?" Sherlock asked. His entire face scrunched up as his eyes studied John's face intensely.

John squirmed uncomfortably. "I mean, yes I'm angry that you let me believe you were dead, and yes I'm hurt. I guess what I'm trying to say is, I forgive you."

Before John had time to process it, long arms were wrapped around him as the detective embraced him. John's heart warmed as he smiled and returned the hug. "It's good to have you back," he said.

"I missed you so much," Sherlock admitted. "I wanted so badly to talk to you, but I feared placing you in more danger."

"I know," John replied, pulling away. "But if you ever do anything like that again, you're dead."

Sherlock smirked. "I'm serious," John continued with a smile. "I will kill you myself."

The detective rolled his eyes. "Killing me is so two years ago."

John laughed and lightly punched his friend's arm. It was so good to feel normal again. John hadn't felt so happy since Sherlock jumped off a roof. "Now that the band's back together, what are we going to do about Adder?"

"Well first, the Doctor will want to find Naia's people," Sherlock said.

"How do you know that?" John asked.

"He's a sensible man, or alien. Anyways, he'll want to find them before doing anything else, but then he's going to want to arrange a meeting between the leaders of Adder."

"Do you think a simple meeting could stop a war?" John asked hopefully.

"No," Sherlock replied. "But the Doctor is an optimist, and he tries to be a pacifist. So he's going to try that first."

"What if it does work?"

"Then I will be happy to be wrong."

* * *

"A meeting isn't going to stop the war," Mycroft insisted for the tenth time. "It's just going to get us all killed."

"I agree with this man," Naia replied. "I know my people well enough. They will not back down."

The Doctor grit his teeth in frustration, wishing Clara were there to back him up. As always, he wondered why it was that everyone wanted to solve their problems with violence. As old as he was, he had seen the ugly scars war had left on the universe. All he wanted was to prevent more.

"Have a little more faith in your people," the Doctor insisted. "If I brought peace between humans and zygons, then I can bring peace to your people."

Naia looked down at their hands, as if considering the Doctor's words. "Alright," they agreed, looking back up at him. "But we should bring back up."

The Doctor supposed that if he were to get his way, he would either have to kick everyone out of the TARDIS or compromise. Although the former option was looking more and more appealing by the minute, he couldn't do that to his friends. "Fine," he agreed, "but you are not to shoot anybody unless in purely self defense."

"Of course," Naia agreed. "We're not savages."

"But you are soldiers," the Doctor reminded them.

Naia's eyes flashed dangerously with an angry darkness only seen in the eyes of soldiers. "I am a soldier," they spat out. "I never wanted to be, but if I am to survive and prevent more death, I must be."

The Doctor stifled an eye roll. "Not everyone is like you, Naia," he replied. "I may trust you, but I have yet to meet your people."

Naia blinked, and the darkness was gone from their eyes. "Oh," was all they could say. With the kind of life they led, the Doctor knew all too well how easy it was to go on the defensive a little too aggressively. After all, he was a soldier once too.

"So how are we going to find Naia's people?" Mycroft asked. "Are we simply going to fly around until we find them, or do you have a more elegant solution?"

"Well," the Doctor began, mildly embarrassed. "No."

Naia blinked in shock. "Seriously?" they asked.

"I find that sometimes the simplest solution is the best," the Doctor responded as he tried to ignore Mycroft groaning.

"Who's going to be willing to lean out the door as you're flying around? That's incredibly dangerous," Mycroft remarked.

The Doctor smirked. "I know who will not only be willing, but will thoroughly enjoy it." The other two looked at him questioningly. "Clara."


End file.
